


to bear the beams of love

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Established Irene Adler/Molly Hooper, F/F, Female Characters, Female Relationships, I Love You, Irene Thinking, Long-Term Relationship(s), Love Confessions, POV Irene, POV Irene Adler, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 04:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6179995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Irene Adler tells Molly Hooper she loves her, she doesn’t mean it. But she grows to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to bear the beams of love

**Author's Note:**

> So I put up a fanfic ask meme back in January of various ways a character could say "I love you" and **smalltearoom** asked for an Irene/Molly fic with number 24, which was "without really meaning it." I didn't want to make it _too_ angsty, so this is what came up. This fic is gifted to **LadyEmmalineWrites1812** for asking for Irene/Molly to be one of my ships before I hit my 600th Sherlock-centric fic on this website. The title comes from a quote from William Blake ("And we are put on this earth a little space that we might learn to bear the beams of love")

The first time she told Molly she loved her she hadn’t meant it.

She hadn’t done it to be cruel. No, that wasn’t the reason at all. She _cared_ , she did. There was affection there, but it wasn’t love. But it was a deep affection; it was a very strong affection. When Molly had said she loved her Irene had frozen and then said the words back and kissed her, and Irene knew she had to have known, she had to have suspected that it wasn’t true, that she didn’t love her ( _how could she love a woman as good and kind as Molly when she was soiled and dirty and unclean?_ ) but she said nothing, just snuggled against her contentedly and drifted off to sleep.

Irene didn’t sleep a wink that night, staying awake all night and running her fingers through Molly’s hair, marveling at the sound of her even breathing, wondering when she would figure out the truth:

She loved a woman who could never love anyone else because she didn’t have a heart. It had shriveled up ages ago. It was gone, and as much as she wanted it back, it was never coming back.

Not even for her.

**\---**

She expected Molly to notice, to pull away, to realize she’d made a mistake. To begin to see that there was no point in loving her ( _she was damaged, oh so damaged, Sherlock had seen it, why couldn’t Molly?_ ) and to cut her losses and leave her alone, to find someone better for her. But she stayed. In fact, she burrowed herself deeper into Irene’s life. Gave up her flat on Montague Street and moved into Irene’s home. Made herself quite comfortable there, too.

And she liked that.

She’d see Molly’s cardigan draped over her sofa in the parlor and a smile would cross her face. She’d hear cheery pop music playing in the kitchen instead of classical and she’d bob her head slightly in time to the beat. She'd see a pair of cotton knickers draped over the side of the side of the drawer where Molly kept her undergarments while she rummaged around for a comfortable bra and she’d start thinking about ways to convince her to stay at home and not bother putting them on.

Home. Molly made her house feel like home, for the first time ever, really. She liked that.

And she felt a small stirring inside her.

Maybe, just maybe, she had a bit of a heart after all.

**\---**

It wasn’t all sunshine and roses. They had their moments, they had their rows, as small as they were, but they both made it a point never to end a day angry. Molly said her mum and dad had said that was the key to a good relationship, that and communication. Irene had a tendency to want to keep things close to the vest, even now, but she tried. And Molly…made it easier to open up.

She was glad for that.

And she found herself sharing bits of herself she’d told precious few people. And Molly would listen, holding her close, stroking her hair back, kissing her softly when she was done. She felt safe with her ( _safety was something she craved, she’d gone so long being in constant danger, her enemies were mostly gone but who knew when they’d pop up again?_ ) and she appreciated that, more than she could ever express.

And she did the same. It was something she had done before, with clients, but it was different with Molly. The intimacy level was different. She didn’t listen to glean secrets for blackmail. She would never hurt Molly like that, never turn her words into weapons. No, she cared too much for that. And if anyone tried to make her they would pay dearly.

They would pay with their life, if need be, though Molly didn’t need to know that.

She just needed to know her secrets were safe. She would keep them safe, now and forevermore. That was the promise she would make and keep and never ever break.

**\---**

The first time she told Molly she loved her she didn’t mean it.

The second time, though…the second time, she did. 

The second time was months later. There was nothing special about the day. No anniversaries, no holidays prompting heartfelt confessions. They hadn’t been on a date or engaged in physical intimacy at all that day. There was no _reason_ for the three words to be said, really. But she felt it deep inside, a deep and abiding and overwhelming sense of love for Margaret Anne Hooper, and she just had to tell her.

Molly was sitting at the vanity, brushing her hair, getting ready for bed. Irene was waiting for her, just watching her. She realized she was lucky, far luckier than she had any right to be, far luckier than she ever deserved to be. She should have been dead or imprisoned, she should have been left to rot, or at the very least she should have been left alone and miserable for the rest of her days, but she was happy. She had the love of one of the best women she knew, and all was right with her world.

“I love you, Molly,” she said. “I just thought you should know.”

Molly turned to her, smiling the warm, wide smile she had come to cherish, and nodded. “I love you too, Irene,” she said.

And she felt a smile come to her own face as she beckoned for Molly to join her in the bed, and as Molly set the brush down and got off the seat she decided that while it was all well and good to _tell_ Molly she loved her, she wanted to show her as well. After all, she hadn’t loved her the first time she’d said it, and she had the rest of her life to make that up to her, if it was the last thing she did.


End file.
